


It's Pink

by Callisto



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has chickenpox. And some color issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Written as flashfic to these four word prompts: planet - incite - trip - pink

“It’s pink.”

“Dean...”

“Dude, it’s pink.”

“It’s _medicine_. You need to stop itching. _I_ need you to stop itching. So could we get past the color thing and have you put some on already?”

“Yeah, but it’s—”

“PINK! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Dean. I KNOW it’s pink, I bought it! Now could you just man up, be a little more secure, and make both our lives easier?”

Dean said nothing, simply blinked at him from across the small motel table where Sam had placed the bottle after they’d sat down. Sam tried to focus on the misery in Dean’s eyes, rather than the scowl on his lips. Lips which were already inciting Sam to fratricide by forming the word ‘pink’ again, this time as a disgusted mutter.

None of it was Dean’s fault. That was the mantra which had helped Sam keep his patience and sanity these last few hours. To be fair none of it was Sam’s fault either. But it certainly wasn’t Dean’s fault that chickenpox had managed to avoid him until now. Sam had a planet of regret for ever letting him near the itchy kid with a fever two States back. Especially since had it had taken ten days of ever increasing temper and denial to get to the point of an hour ago, when Dean had slammed on the brakes and implored Sam to do something fucking NOW to stop the goddamn itching.

Hence three trips to three different pharmacies.

Hence the very-pink-this-should-do-it bottle.

Dean shifted in his chair, raised his hand to his neck, and glared at Sam before his hand got halfway there. He put it back down and clenched his jaw instead.

“Dean,” said Sam, anger suddenly gone. “Look, just...just go take a shower, okay? Take some cotton balls and get as much on as you can. I’ll do the ones on your back for you when you come out.”

Dean swore and kicked the table leg as he got to his feet, still muttering.

“Dude, you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Still don’t see why it can’t be some other fucking color. I mean, it’s not like chickenpox is a chick only thing. Right?”

Sam had long ago given up being surprised at the things Dean could suddenly demand logic for. Sometimes the way to an easy life was to simply nod and say 'I guess'.

Sam nodded, “I guess.”

“Blue! Or brown or something. Or no fucking color at all, how about that?”

“Dean...”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m going.”

Sam had a thought and gestured for Dean to come closer, and then for him to bend down a little. He stretched his hand out and rested his fingers on Dean’s neck, rather touched that his brother stayed still and let him. “Cool water, Dean. You’ve got a fever.”

“Great. And I bet the medicine for that is friggin’ pink, too.”

Dean straightened, sighed, grabbed the bottle and moved off again. He turned back at the door of the bathroom, as if yet another idea about the injustice of medicinal colors had to be shared. Something terrible and Latin ran through Sam’s head.

“What about the ones on my ass, Sammy?”

Dean was _smiling_. Son of a bitch.

Sam shook his head and grinned right back, ancient swear words forgotten. “They are all yours, Dean. Those you get to scratch and keep forever.”

“Heh. I may be a while, then.”

******

(Set 2 prompts: planet - incite - trip - pink)


End file.
